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Sunday, September 19, 2010

Fashion Week Recap Part 1*: but, but, but.

Fashion Week is over. Lincoln Center is back to normal and so, to an extent, is my life. I had high hopes for this weekend: sleeping, eating normal food, writing a meaninful yet hilarious recap of the events of the past few weeks. After a week of living off 2-3 hours sleep, champagne and cupcakes I couldn't wait to relax. But, but, but.

And while I am a little tickled at the idea of having traipsed around Fashion Week, chatting with very important designers, models and editors whilst ever so slightly infested with fleas (I'm told fleas don't actually hang out on humans but a girl can dream) I had no idea it would be this big a pain in the ass. I'd really hoped for a weekend and I got an infestation.

After declaring war on these infectious fuckers, I think I've won. And now Sunday night is stretching ahead of me, no pants, no powders, no sprays and, for Christ's sake, no fleas.

Butt, butt, butt

*I'm hoping there will be a Part 2, but, but, but.

** Here are transcripts of several conversations with The Boy, starting about a week and a half ago.A Week and A Half Ago:

Me: Ugh. I think we're infested with something.The Boy: Like what?Me: I don't know. Fleas? Lice? I just hope it's not bedbugs. I read this article and...The Boy: Ah. I think you just read something scary. We're not infested.

Five days ago

Me: Ugh. I really think we're infested. I have a bite.The Boy: I have one, too. Don't worry so much. That's what happens when you spend a night outside in the summer.Me: But there was a bug, and I think I had this before and the cat has been scratching and I really think we have fleas.The Boy: He's just dirty. We don't have fleas.

Three Days Ago (in the morning)

The Boy: We have fleas.Me: Do we have coffee?The Boy: No, we have fleas.Me: I don't care. Go away.The Boy: I love you in the morning.Me: I don't care. Go away.Rue: meow.Me: I don't care. Go away.